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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360013">hushed, enclosed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cishet/pseuds/cishet'>cishet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, F/F, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, Strap-Ons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:54:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cishet/pseuds/cishet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Edelgard’s mind coils into a lock-jawed ouroboros, ready to consume itself to nothing. Byleth feels that tension tugging at her heart, aching, palpable, and she could want nothing more than to see the woman of her heart—awfully mortal, wonderfully human—unspooled for a time.</p><p>(Written for the NSFW Edeleth Zine, Saghert &amp; Cream!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>198</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hushed, enclosed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was my piece for the saghert &amp; cream zine! it was a really wonderful project to be part of and everyone's work is phenomenal. if you're interested in seeing more spicy edeleths (fic and art), pdfs are currently on sale. check out @frosttbutt on twitter for details!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“El, won’t you come to bed?”</p><p>Byleth leans against the doorjamb of the office, gazing upon Edelgard’s back at the mahogany desk. It’s late. The stumps of candle by which she works burn low to molten wax, in contrast to the eternal towers of paperwork which, to Byleth’s eye at least, never seem to change in size.</p><p>“In just a little while, my love. I’ll be done with my work soon,” Edelgard responds, eyes not rising from the desk.</p><p>This ritual is familiar to Byleth, and she barely even needs to hear the words to recognise the absent lie on Edelgard’s lips: the work of the Emperor is never quite done, any end still lying years out of sight. Left to her own devices, she would burn her lamp day and night, working tirelessly at whatever Fódlan required of her. And so it falls to Byleth to make her wife rest, when she can, lest she wear her fingers fully down to the bone.</p><p>That would be a terrible shame. It would not do for Edelgard to waste away silent in the whispers of the night, without the chance to idle together into blissful obscurity. And Byleth is quite fond of her fingers just as they are, besides.</p><p>She crosses the room carefully and sets hands to scarlet-clad shoulders, reflexively kneading at the tense set of muscle. She is stripped down to her black undershirt as usual in the evenings, but even at this late hour Edelgard remains dressed in her formal garb, hair coiled to bear the burden of her crown.</p><p>“When did you last rest?” Byleth asks gently. Sets to the methodical work of releasing the horned arrangement’s intricate weave.</p><p>Edelgard shakes her head, just once, too harshly to be directed at anyone but herself. “That is unimportant. Rest can wait until after I finish what must be done.”</p><p>Byleth pauses, recognising this tightness in her tone. Edelgard is always industrious, driven to a near fault even on the best of days. But with how her words are drawn short, form stiff, motions sharp—this tension goes beyond simple focus.</p><p>She sets the crown on the desk and peers over Edelgard’s shoulder to skim today’s work. Some management of trade treaties, land disputes. Important matters to be sure, but nothing quite so pressing. Nothing that couldn’t wait till morning, nothing that couldn’t have been delegated.</p><p>The Emperor is no tyrant, rules with no iron fist, but she can still be agonisingly reluctant to relinquish control of some matters. It’s the one flaw of her governance which Byleth occasionally finds herself resenting. </p><p>Byleth has coaxed the quill from her grip many a time, knows how some nights her hold on the pen grows even tighter than that of Aymr bearing down on the beast. Nights when her fears track round, cyclical—the sands of time slipping between her fingers, the fragile flame of her existence. Fears of leaving everything unfinished.</p><p>Edelgard’s mind coils into a lock-jawed ouroboros, ready to consume itself to nothing. Byleth feels that tension tugging at her heart, aching, palpable, and she could want nothing more than to see the woman of her heart—awfully mortal, wonderfully human—unspooled for a time.</p><p>“You and I have different ideas of what must be done right now, El,” Byleth murmurs, carding her fingers through silken strands of white. “And I think you don’t quite know what you need right now.”</p><p>She moves further into her space, breath coming to ghost over the shell of her ear. Tongue traces in the dip behind earlobe, and the deliberate stillness of Edelgard’s form says as much as any shiver.</p><p>“What you need is to forget about all this responsibility for a moment.” She kisses a wet path down the inches of available skin above collar, feeling the muscle beneath her lips tense. “You need to let go.” Sucks at the nape of Edelgard’s neck, pressure balanced on the razor’s edge of what would leave a mark, drinking in the choked gasp that follows.</p><p>When lips lower further to meet the exposed cut of upper back she arches and tremors as though a bowstring drawn, straining, quiet moan reverberating through the contact. Byleth simply marvels at the woman before her, how readily she responds to a single touch, taut under the slightest attentions.</p><p>She drops a kiss onto the plane of her back, then another and another, dragging hot lips and tongue over flesh. Undoes the single button there to expose more of her alabaster skin. With each electric swipe up her spine Edelgard slumps further and further forward, uncoiling languidly. Seeing her wife like this—unable to control the way her spine bows, melting beneath her touch, soft sighs falling upon her ears—Byleth feels something not unlike hunger rising within her.</p><p>“If we are to continue this— <em>ah</em>— we should relocate—” Edelgard stutters, making a feeble effort to rise on trembling legs. Byleth catches her by the hips.</p><p>“No.” She grips, letting steel slide into her voice. “No thinking about what you <em>should</em> do. All you’re going to do tonight is what I tell you to.”</p><p>Byleth steps around the chair and pulls Edelgard to her. There is a length tucked into her pants, and she knows when Edelgard notices it from her slight hitch of breath.</p><p>“You were planning on this.”</p><p>“Not this exactly, no. But I was planning on you.” </p><p>She had only been meaning to take Edelgard to bed, not take her in the office like this. But what Edelgard needs, she needs, and with each passing moment the urgency to see her unwound and taken apart grows.</p><p>Byleth has never been the most vocal of lovers — prefers to speak her devotion with hand rather than voice. Language muddies and distorts in its transmission, while touch is undistorted, unmistakable. But she knows the power of words too, can take control of a scene when occasion arises. Can serve her Emperor by making her forget she wears the crown altogether.</p><p>She lifts Edelgard to sit on the desk, never mind the papers. Brushes a kiss to her forehead and trains her eyes on hers, pouring as much of her heart into the gaze as possible. Says, <em>Trust me.</em> Waits for her assent.</p><p>It takes only a moment for Edelgard to nod. <em>Always.</em></p><p>With that, Byleth takes hold of her face in both hands and, a hair’s breadth away from her lips, breathes, “Kiss me.” Edelgard presses them together, achingly light. That tenderness lingers for a moment before Byleth pulls her in deeper, entwining their tongues in a slick heat. She licks and sucks and tugs until Edelgard begins to let out light moans into her mouth. They pull apart for breath and Edelgard <em>whines</em>, and Byleth is tempted, so tempted to lean back in and capture those swollen lips again, Edelgard with her hair tousled and eyes lidded and face so alluringly flushed.</p><p>Instead, she fixes her eyes on Edelgard’s as they widen, darken, watches as she watches Byleth’s single slow finger pull down the front window of her shirt, nipples hardening in exposure to the cool night air. Byleth sees Edelgard’s hand rising to cup her breast, and thrills at her disarmed expression when Byleth flashes to intercept the movement.</p><p>“I thought I made it clear that you’re only doing as I say tonight, nothing more and nothing less. And I don’t recall telling you to touch me.”</p><p>Byleth’s other hand shifts to weave its way in her locks and urges her down slightly. “You’re going to use your mouth instead, understand?”</p><p>To her credit, Edelgard complies readily, burying face into breasts to press open-mouthed kisses all over the supple flesh with a sigh.</p><p>“Suck,” Byleth commands, pulling her by hair to the spot she desires. Edelgard hums when her lips seal around one nipple, sucking while her tongue her flicks at the bud, hard and short, over and over. The sensation sends sparks down Byleth’s spine, electrifying, but even more exhilarating is the sight of her like this: eyes drifting closed in focus, thighs squirming despite the lack of any touch.</p><p>“I love seeing you like this, with your pretty lips on me,” Byleth drawls. The hand fisted in Edelgard's hair pushes down for emphasis, keeping her mouth trained to nipple. “You love it as well, don’t you? You’re enjoying this. I bet it’s making you even wetter than it’s making me.” </p><p>Byleth takes hold of one of Edelgard’s hands and guides it between her own shifting legs, sliding through her folds. Though Byleth can't feel it herself, she hears the <em>shlick</em> of wetness that paints Edelgard’s fingers, feels the moan that follows reverberating on her breast, flooding her senses.</p><p>“See? Absolutely drenched,” she taunts, ducking down to nip at the shell of her ear. “Getting all turned on, all by yourself. I’ve barely even touched you.”</p><p>Edelgard lets out a helpless groan but returns no protest, too busy bucking her hips desperately, chasing the friction of her hand.</p><p>“Only do as I say, El. I won’t repeat myself again.”</p><p>Edelgard lets out a plaintive sound, but obediently removes her hand.</p><p>“Good girl,” Byleth murmurs. She reaches down to touch Edelgard herself, basking in the sweet slickness of it. Her words have been half bravado but Goddess, she really is <em>so</em> wet. Byleth catches the shaking of Edelgard’s thighs as though resisting the urge to spread her legs and feels a fire possess her, unholy and divine.</p><p>“That’s it, you’re so good, you’re being so good for me,” she says, tongue aflame. She doesn’t miss the surge of wetness on her fingers at those words, or how the lips at her breast redouble their efforts, her nerves singing.</p><p>“Clothes off, my heart. Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”</p><p>Edelgard pulls away instantly, chest heaving. The skirt comes off in a flurry of fumbling hands, then the bodice while Byleth kneels to remove her boots, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of her knee. Byleth rises and unfastens her pants, finally pulling out the toy held against her leg.</p><p>She pushes at Edelgard’s shoulder and she falls backward to sprawl across the disarrayed papers. Byleth’s mind is burning with the sight before her, the sight of her wife open and wanting, argent hair disheveled, the line of each nerve and sinew strung into a silent plea.</p><p>“Tell me,” she rumbles, stroking the soft thatch of nether hair. “You’ve been such a good girl, so tell me, how should I touch you?”</p><p>The world would be shocked to hear the Emperor speak as she does in these intimate moments—voice high and airy, lacking her usual gravitas though holding no less power.</p><p>“Inside,” she gasps, “please, my light, let me have you inside m—”</p><p>Her breath cuts off when Byleth spreads her legs and presses the thick length inside—slow, Edelgard needs it slow in the beginning, especially without any fingers to start. She should go slowly. But that honeyed <em>please, please</em> is so intoxicating, and when Byleth slides her hands under Edelgard’s thighs she wraps them readily around her waist, rocking, urging. There is nothing to resist.</p><p>Hands gripping hips, Byleth rolls hard into her like waves against a seawall, ceaseless, inevitable. With each movement she makes sure to press her pubic bone up against Edelgard’s clit, every thrust accompanied by a long grind. She relishes the litany of her name that escapes Edelgard’s lips, <em>Byleth Byleth Byleth</em>, voice and shuddering breath flung in the spindrift. The tense draw of Edelgard’s brow contrasts the inelegant gape of her mouth, loosening, hanging ever wider each time she is filled.</p><p>Byleth can’t feel her like this, not with the toy slipped inside her, but still there is nothing she is more intimately familiar with than the softness of Edelgard’s walls that she has felt so many times before, three fingers deep.</p><p>She knows the prolonged groan that means Edelgard is pulsing, throbbing against her, knows the exact angle with which to draw it out. Knows the quavering clench that tightens every time she pulls back, Edelgard hungry to keep that fullness inside her. She knows the sensation with each cell of her body, and the thought of it alone is enough to sate the burning heat rising between her legs.</p><p>All the while Byleth purrs into Edelgard’s ear, <em>How does it feel</em> met with a choked <em>So good so full</em> and matched with <em>Good girl, you’re taking it so well, you can take even more keep going just for me.</em> She lets Edelgard fall apart like this, thrust by thrust, piecemeal. Drinks in the high fragmented cries rising, catches each involuntary jerk. And when Edelgard shouts out <em>Please I’m coming let me come please</em>, swept adrift in the swelling tide, Byleth takes the hand that gropes blindly, whispers <em>I’ve got you</em> through her fingers, and holds tight as her love falls safely in her grasp.</p><p>Byleth slows to ease her through the aftershocks before pulling out. Or she would, if only Edelgard’s hips would stop their small unconscious thrusts, still seeking the sensation after climax. She would carry her wife to bed and let them both rest, if only legs hadn’t wound their way round her waist again, heels locking to hold her closer.</p><p>“More, please,” Edelgard murmurs, voice tremulous, head thrown back, eyes shut tight.</p><p>Byleth thinks for a moment that she should deny her this request, made a transgression from the moment Edelgard agreed to submit to her will for the night. But to reject such an honest and quiet plea, so rare and precious coming from the Emperor, would be to cut out her heart itself.</p><p>“More,” Byleth echoes. Edelgard meets her eyes with open lilac.</p><p>She gives.</p><p>She gives, gives more, as much as the woman below her will take, each climax coming more easily and rapidly than the one before. The second orgasm comes with a thrash and fists balled to the front of her shirt, the third with a keening cry muted by the press of her fingers into mouth. Fourth from behind bent over the desk, lips and teeth ravaging back. Fifth with deft fingers twisting inside, then sixth flitting over clit, seventh eighth ninth each cresting before Edelgard even fully surfaces from the last wave.</p><p>The strength in Byleth’s thrusts begins to flag with exertion. If her own stamina is wavering, Edelgard must surely be totally spent—she lost the ability to shout or thrust upwards long ago, now reduced to a panting mess, twitching and writhing weakly with each motion inside or against her. Byleth leans down to kiss her brow and means to pull back, her heart having taken as much as she can take.</p><p>But Edelgard cries out once again, a garbled formless noise, broken voice saying <em>enough</em> but the arms that wrap around Byleth’s shoulders with the last of their strength saying <em>more, more</em>. And Byleth knows the hand to sing in ways the voice will not and so she leans into it, leans in and whispers against her lips <em>More, one more, you’re such a good girl can you come just once more for me please</em>, sealing them together in a searing kiss.</p><p>That alone tips Edelgard over the edge with a near-sob, overstimulated as she already is. She clings to Byleth like a woman drowning, gasping for breaths of air, and Byleth cradles her to ease her through the sensation. The tension leaves her finally and she splays her limbs out languorously, like strings severed from a puppet. A little huff that might have been a laugh if she’d had the strength rings in Byleth’s ears, the sweetest music to grace the air.</p><p>Edelgard is thoroughly wrecked. The paperwork is thoroughly wrecked. Byleth collapses backwards into the chair, finally feeling the ache and burn of her overworked muscles. Any need to attend to her own desire is forgotten for what might be a minute or an hour as she appreciates the view—the breath-taking wetness smeared all over Edelgard’s thighs, short legs dangling rather adorably off the desk.</p><p>“My light,” sighs Edelgard towards the ceiling after a time, voice cracked, hoarse. “Would you mind terribly if I asked you to clean me up?”</p><p>Byleth almost wants to be scandalised that Edelgard would still ask for more after being rendered an utter mess, but she cannot contain the fond and incredulous grin that breaks its way across her face. Goddess help her with this woman. She shuffles the chair a little closer to the desk, parts the curls before those folds, puts her head down, and sets back to work. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>you can hmu on twitter @butchidols for *gestures vaguely* Web Content</p></blockquote></div></div>
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